Things That Go Bump in the Night
by proudhon-has-a-posse
Summary: When Merrill went to sleep that night, she wouldn't have known she'd be given a chance to say a few last words to someone from her past.


Merrill clutched the reins of the griffin strongly in the bracing wind as they flew over the Anderfels, spotting snow-capped mountains rushing by on the wing - until out of the other corner of her eye, she saw her quarry: the Weisshaupt Fortress. "Down, Feathers!" she cried, and they begun hurtling through towards the earth - _thump_ - "And what was that?" Merrill wondered, for surely nothing could go "thump" in the air, and they had yet to land.

She heard glass breaking, and opened her eyes.

Hawke was dead to the world; her arms still resting gently around Merrill's waist, a knee nestled next to hers.

_Thump_.

"I really should go see what that is." Merrill reasoned with herself.

Gingerly disentangling herself from Hawke, she tread lightly across the room and into the hall. The fire in the hearth had died, and a beam of moonlight staked out its territory on the rug in front of it.

It was no use, she'd have to go downstairs to find out.

"Do we have creaky floorboards? I can never remember. I've never had to be quiet in Hawke's house before." she asked herself silently.

She'd find out sooner or later, and stepped on the first step down the staircase.

"Oh, there are stone floors here." Merrill realised. Regardless, discretion was more important, she concluded, and stepped lightly down each step, one by one.

No more noises.

A book lay spreadeagled on the floor, and a glass bottle of elfroot potion lay on the library floor. The dog had fell asleep again, after chasing ... whatever it was. "Just the dog." she thought to herself.

She walked up to the window near the fireplace and looked out at the night sky and the moon, suspended in the sky.

"_Andaran atishan, da_'_len_."

In the moonlight, behind her, came a voice. Merrill turned.

"Marethari!"

And so it was; the familiar, tall outline of the keeper seemed suspended in the dust, formless but ..._present_, a pencil sketch on a piece of paper, a Dalish on a shaft of moonlight.

"Keep your voice down, or you'll wake up Hawke..." Merrill said, nervously.

Not the best first thing to say to a ghost, I'm sure.

She slowly raised a hand, dismissively. "She will not hear us."

"What are you doing here? And at this time of night?"

She chuckled slowly. "_Abelas, da_'_len_; it was the only time that I could talk to you. The last time that we could speak."

"Have you come to harangue me still about my path in life, Keeper?"

"No, child. I have come to tell you that I was wrong for pushing you so far away from the People, for allowing the inevitable to happen. My only sadness is that I realized this long too late. And you alone are the last of our clan."

Merrill was stunned, and lost for words.

"Why did you do it?" she asked, quietly. "Why did you let that spirit take you? It should have been me."

Merrill held her face in her hands. "No one would have had to die but me. Now they're all _dead_ because of your foolishness."

"I took the demon's burden upon myself because I cared too much to let you come to harm, da'len. Does a mother not wish that _she_ would be the one to suffer any pain that would come to her child in their stead?"

"I'm not a child any more, Keeper." Merrill said, quietly.

The Keeper nodded.

"You're an amazing, thoughtful, and caring member of the People. I am indebted to your _vhenan_'_ara_ for believing in you like I wouldn't." Marethari looked down. "And I am indebted to her for making you believe it, too."

"I am tired, Merrill." she added. "I must sleep."

"_Dareth shiral_, Keeper."

"_Dareth shiral_."

And then she was gone.

Merrill stared on in silence. And then she remembered Marethari's sadness, her apology. Wasn't she supposed to be sorry for something too? Sorry for the anger, for the conflict, for the dogged, uncompromising pursuit of trying to save her people - whatever the cost?

"I'm sorry I pushed so hard." she whispered, involuntarily.

But Marethari was gone. Maybe she still had heard her, from wherever she slept now, in her dreams?


End file.
